The Warden moved on his seat uneasily.
"Belinda speaks of your engagement to Gwendolen," said Lady Dashwood, and her voice this time demanded an answer.
"I am not engaged," he said, turning his eyes to his sister's face slowly, "but, I am pledged to marry her—if it is her wish."
Lady Dashwood's eyes quavered.
The Warden rose from his chair as if to go.
"I can't discuss the matter further, Lena. I cannot tell you more. I had no right, I had no reason, for telling you anything before, because nothing had been concluded—it may not be concluded. It depends on her, and she has not spoken to me decisively."
He moved away from the table.
"You haven't finished your coffee, your sandwiches," said Lady Dashwood, to give herself time, and to help her to self-control. Oh, why had he put himself and his useful life in the hands of a mere child—a child who would never become a real woman? Why did he deliberately plan his own martyrdom?
"I don't want any more," he said, "and I have letters to write."